Confessions of an Aunt
by fanfictionlover101
Summary: Petunia Dursley mistreated Harry for what she thought was his own good.


**A/N: Enjoy the story and review please! So I'm not catholic and I have never made a confession so please excuse any mistakes I may have made.**

**Summary: Petunia Dursley mistreated Harry for what she thought was his own good.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Petunia Dursley entered the church and walked nervously down the middle aisle. It had been a long time since she had been in a church – Dudley's baptism actually and that itself had been quite a few years ago.

Petunia found herself at the confessional sooner than she had expected and this brought her to a halt. Yes, she had a lot to confess but she wasn't sure if she could do it. Taking a deep calming breath, Petunia opened the curtain and sat down, closing the curtain as she did.

"Father?" Petunia said after a couple of minutes.

"Yes my child?" The priest responded.

"I wish to make a confession."

"Go ahead, my dear. The Father forgives all our sins."

Once again Petunia took a deep breath. This was long overdue she felt. "It's about my nephew. He was brought to me and my family when he was only a year old – that was about eighteen years ago. He had just been in an – an accident of sorts and both of his parents – my sister and her husband were killed.

"I hadn't spoken to my sister for years, four years in fact as I avoided her when she returned home from boarding school the year she graduated. She and I had a bit of a disagreement when we were younger. She was different and I wanted to be like her as well. Our parents loved her for being different and I wanted that too. Now, I know that they loved me just as much but at the time it didn't seem like it. When it became obvious that I would never be like my sister, I began to resent her for it. She was hurt by it and made many attempts to reconcile but I didn't want anything to do with her. I – I even pretended she didn't exist. When she died, I felt terrible but I was almost _happy_. I no longer had to deal with the fact that she was different and I wasn't. I could put it all behind me. Then I remembered the baby boy left on my doorstep.

"The news that my sister had died had come in the form of a letter left with the boy. The letter also explained to me that I was the boy's only living relative and he would be best off with me. I loved him at once. He was so cute with the tuft of hair and I felt so bad for him with the nasty scar on his forehead from the accident. Then he opened his eyes and I was suddenly reminded of my sister so strongly that I resented him for it. His eyes had been exactly the same as my sisters. The same shape, the same colour. There was nothing else about him to remind me of her except those eyes. In everything else, he looked like his father who had also been different."

Petunia stopped for a moment to gather her strength. She had needed to tell this to someone for years but hadn't had anyone she could turn to. Vernon wouldn't have understood and she certainly couldn't tell Dudley. On second thought, maybe she could have after he had been attacked by the Dementors. He didn't seem to hate his cousin like he had before. He had stopped picking on him at least. And she knew for certain that she couldn't tell Harry. She just couldn't. She knew that she didn't deserve forgiveness from him but she couldn't bring herself to tell him all this.

"Even looking like his father wasn't good enough for me as his father had been different too. With the parents that he had had, I knew that my nephew would also be different and I wanted that not to happen more than anything. I felt that the difference was what had gotten them killed and the reason that I had to take care of the boy, which was true in a way. At least the second part was. With that in mind, I made myself a promise. I would not let him become different the way his parents were. I wouldn't let him be killed for it like my sister. I truly thought I was doing the best thing for him.

"From the moment I put him next to my own son, I knew this was going to be a challenge. My son had already started to throw stuff at him and later on, I found him _hitting_ my nephew. I was extremely misguided when it came to my son at the time and I ran over to pick him up and cuddle him. I told him not to throw stuff but I would take him to get some sweets later. I did nothing for my nephew who was crying.

"For years, I mistreated my nephew in an effort to avoid the difference which would make itself known when he turned eleven. There were signs of it and although I knew he couldn't help it, I punished him for these signs. He knew nothing and my husband and I continued to teach him that being different was a bad thing and he would always be punished for it. I made him cook, mow the lawn, clean the house and many other things that anyone under the age of eleven shouldn't be doing – dangerous things. I treated him as a slave. While my own son wandered around becoming more and more obese and cruel, I made my nephew suffer. He never knew happiness at my house."

The priest (who was, coincidentally, a squib) felt shocked for he knew of course, what that difference was. He also had a feeling that he knew who the nephew was.

"I turned a blind eye to my own son when he was bullying other children, those younger than him and older. I took no notice of the fact that the other children stayed as far away from him as possible, I was too focussed on keeping him happy. He was spoiled in every way. If he wanted something, his father or I would go and get it for him. He even had two bedrooms while his cousin slept in a cupboard under the stairs. My son also became incredibly obese. So obese in fact that the boarding school he attended didn't stock uniforms for the size that my son was. He was put on a diet and was very upset about it. My nephew didn't need the diet at all as he was thin, too thin. I didn't feed him nearly as much as I did my own son who didn't need to be fed half as much as I fed him. My husband also enrolled my son in a wrestling club where he was allowed to punch people. At the time I thought this was great – my boy was learning to defend himself. Later on, my family and I received an unexpected visit from my nephews' headmaster who came to get him. He informed my husband and I that our son was being mistreated terribly and that my nephew hadn't even been treated that badly. I had no idea what he meant until a little later and at that point, I was completely ashamed of myself.

"My nephew had, of course, become different. As I said before, there were signs throughout his childhood that he was punished for. That did nothing. I thought I was saving him when I had been mistreating him for something that he could do nothing about. He received a letter to go to the same school that my sister and her husband had gone to, that I had once wanted to go to, but I was still determined not to let him go without a fight. My husband and I destroyed the letter. More came. We nailed up the letter box, then the door, then ran away from home as the letters came in from everywhere. Eventually, my nephew went to the boarding school. I learned that he almost died that year. And every year that he went there, so at least six times he had almost died at that school. Each time, I knew that I should have tried harder to stop him from going. Every time I found out he had almost died, I tried to distance myself from him further. It worked. When he left for the last time, I didn't say a word even though there was another good chance that he would die. There was a moment just before we departed that I wanted to tell him everything – that I had loved him from the moment that I set my eyes on him, that all I ever wanted to do was protect him, to tell him that I was sure that my sister would have been proud of him. Then the moment passed and I, once again, felt ashamed.

"My son, however, whose life had been saved by my nephew two years previously told him that he didn't think he was a waste of space like my nephew seemed to think. Instead of spilling everything then, I ran to my son and hugged him for being so nice. I wish I had told my nephew that instead. Hugged him instead of my son. Now it's too late, and I don't think he'll ever forgive me. I don't deserve it anyway.

"I haven't seen him in years although I have heard that he almost died again after we went our separate ways and I felt another pang just like I had every other time I had heard that.

"I came here to confess everything that I had felt because I now know that I was wrong in everything that I did. I am so sorry for being such a horrible person all these years. I just wanted to keep him safe! Lily, my dear sister, I'm sorry."

With that, Petunia broke out into tears, chanting "I'm sorry Lily" over and over again between sobs.

"There, there. I'm sure your sister forgives you, as does the Father. And I suggest that you speak with your nephew and tell him all this. I'm sure he'd greatly appreciate it," the priest suggested.

"T – thank you," Petunia said. She got up and left, wiping her eyes but feeling better for finally getting her emotions out and for letting go after all the years she had kept silent. As she walked out of the church, her mind was on how to get in touch with her nephew to apologize and to tell him what she should have told him years ago.


End file.
